


Can't Drink Without Thinking About You

by whensheflies



Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: After Party, Dancing, Hand Jobs, Harry's pierced ear kink, Kissing, M/M, Met Gala, Met Gala 2019, No Angst, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, met gala au, this is all gucci's fault lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 23:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whensheflies/pseuds/whensheflies
Summary: "It’s alright… you can," Shawn sucks in a breath. Harry can what? Touch him?Hurthim? He’s losing the plot so quickly. He can feel himself already half hard just from Harry touching his fucking ear. This is a disaster.Harry makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat, his lower lip caught between his teeth. His thumb presses just a touch firmer into the tendon at Shawn’s neck. Shawn needs to say something, do something, but he’s paralyzed with what ifs and what the fucks. He wants Harry so badly he aches with it.a 2019 Met Gala ficlet.





	Can't Drink Without Thinking About You

**Author's Note:**

> welp. i wrote this mostly for myself. and for kara. if you happen to enjoy it as well? that's icing on the cake. 
> 
> xxxxx (five kisses for the five shawn/harry fics that came before mine). 
> 
> do **not:** repost, translate, share with anyone famous.
> 
>  **do:** kudos, comment, reblog the tumblr post, and convince me to write more Sharry.
> 
> (title from Shawn Mendes' banger "If I Can't Have You")

Shawn is drunk. And hallucinating. He is drunk and hallucinating. There is no other fathomable explanation for Harry Styles looking at him like _that_. Like he _wants_ him.

It started before the party began. 

+

Nothing really could have prepared Shawn for the sight that awaited him at the top of the pink stairs. In a sea of garish color and avant garde fashion, Harry stood out in an unexpected way. The inky darkness of his outfit like a black hole, drawing in everyone and everything nearby. 

With each step closer, Shawn felt his heartbeat pick up. He fumbled his way through the greetings, unable to focus on Anna Wintour’s prim acknowledgement or Serena Williams, who pulled him into a quick hug. If asked, Shawn wouldn’t be able to recall if Lady Gaga or Alessandro were even there. It was a technicolor blur until he stood before Harry. And then time had stopped. 

Shawn barely had a moment to process, his mind a jumble of _ruffles, sheer, tattoos_ , and _holy fuck nipple_ , before Harry was greeting him with a soft smile. 

“Shawn, welcome.” 

Shawn took Harry’s extended hand, his eyes blinking down at the multi-colored lacquer on his nails before snapping his eyes back up to Harry’s, and shook it firmly. 

“Harry, it’s good to see you,” Shawn said, hoping he didn’t sound like a completely besotted idiot. 

The thing was… for as long as Shawn could remember, he’d wanted to be just like Harry. His music, his attitude, his stage presence, his playful flirtation with femininity. Shawn adored it all. But then the dreams had started. The ones that came night after night. The ones that left him waking breathless and desperately hard. It was then that Shawn had had to realign his reality and assess that what he felt for Harry Styles was more than just admiration. It was desire.

“Likewise,” Harry says, bringing Shawn back to the moment. He releases Shawn’s hand and Shawn already misses the warmth on his fingertips. He watches as Harry smiles at him kindly, dipping his head a litte, almost shy. 

It floors Shawn. That is, until Harry tilts his head just so, and Shawn sees his earring. Fuck. His mouth practically waters on sight. Harry Styles is wearing an earring. A big, shining pearl dripping from his earlobe. He looks beautiful like this. Prettier than he’s ever looked before. Shawn can hardly stand it. 

By some miracle, he finds his voice. “I love your earring.”

Harry’s eyes light up with pride as he dimples at Shawn. He shrugs a shoulder causing the earring to swing a little bit, bringing even more attention to the piercing. “What, this old thing?” he says teasingly.

If Shawn didn’t know any better, he’d think that Harry Styles might be flirting with him.

“Gucci, right?” Shawn asks, striving for calm and collected but also wanting to soak up every moment he could possibly get with him. 

Harry hums his assent and then there’s an usher by Shawn’s side asking him to step inside and keep moving. As he moves away, he feels the loss of Harry’s presence like an ache. It’s ridiculous really, how affected he is by the short interaction.

“Shawn!”

His heart flutters at the sound of his name called from Harry’s lips. He turns his head to glance back at him. Harry really does look like a dream, Shawn’s dreams specifically, as he stands in sheer black lace and ruffles, one large hand resting on his stomach. 

“Yeah?” Shawn says.

“You’re coming to the party later?” 

Shawn has no idea what party Harry is referring to, but he knows an invitation when he hears one. He grins back and hope he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels. “Of course, man! Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

 

The party was in full swing by the time Shawn had arrived. It was easy to quickly get lost in the atmosphere of bass pounding, alcohol flowing, and people letting loose. The glass of champagne he’d downed to calm his nerves upon arrival was already going to his head. He should have eaten something earlier. But it was too late for that now. Now, he was committed to having a good time. And hopefully being able to chat with Harry some more. Just the thought of the other man twisted up Shawn’s insides. 

He saw him then, up in the DJ booth with Mark Ronson. He’d changed out of his pink carpet Gucci into something more outrageous, Shawn noted, but just as _Harry_. Shawn watched as Harry bounced to the music, his smile lighting up the room. It was a lot. He reached for another glass of champagne.

 

Shawn is drunk. And possibly hallucinating. How else was he to explain the feeling of Harry Styles’ half lidded gaze pointed right at him? How else was he supposed to process being dragged by the wrist to the bar? Harry calling out to the bartender for tequila and limes, a shot glass pushed into his hand. At some point in the evening, Harry had found him and pulled him into a tight hug. He’d smelled amazing and Shawn was utterly overwhelmed by it. He’d stuck by Harry’s side like a magnet since. 

It’s only when the tequila sloshes onto his wrist a little, when Harry clinks their shot glasses together with a shit-eating grin, that Shawn’s brain catches up with reality. The shot glass only makes it halfway to his mouth, instead he watches Harry throw back his own shot, the long line of this throat highlighted with a light sheen of sweat as he swallows down the tequila. Shawn’s mouth is dry and all he thinks about is what Harry’s skin would taste like. 

He laughs when Harry shudders and bites down on the lime.

“You don’t like tequila?” Harry asks, noticing that Shawn is still holding a full shot glass. “I’m sorry, darling, I should’ve asked.”

 _Darling_. Fuck. Shawn tries not to let it go to his head. 

“No, no. It’s cool. I’m good,” he answers lamely, throwing back the shot gracelessly. He squeezes his eyes shut as it burns all the way down his throat. When he opens his eyes, Harry is standing closer that he was before. Much closer. Shawn’s eyes slowly focus on the wedge of lime that Harry is holding up between them.

“You forgot the lime,” Harry says, smirking with nostrils flared.

It’s most definitely the same lime that Harry had been sucking on a moment ago. Shawn feels a little lightheaded under Harry’s attention, but he leans in anyway. He presses his fingertips lightly to Harry’s wrist to steady himself and bites into the lime. Sweet citrus bursts onto his tongue soothing the burn of the tequila. Harry doesn’t blink and neither does Shawn. He doesn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes darken just a little.

“Thanks,” he says, hopes to god that Harry doesn’t hear the crack in his voice. 

“Another?”

Shawn nods and Harry lifts two fingers when he catches the bartender’s attention. These shots go down easier, every muscle in Shawn’s body getting more relaxed and yet he still feels strung so tight with Harry this close. With his back to the bar, he rests his elbows against the sticky bartop. He tilts his head towards Harry. He’s close enough to touch, but they don’t. Shawn’s fingertips itch with the need to reach out and feel. 

Harry’s eyes trail over every inch of Shawn’s body before settling on Shawn’s face. Shawn’s never felt more exposed in his life. And he just finished his Calvin Klein underwear photoshoot a few weeks ago. 

“I love your earring,” Harry says, one corner of his mouth tugged up in a crooked smile. 

Shawn ducks his head in embarrassment, remembering their moment on the pink carpet, at Harry’s gentle tease. He can feel the heat on his cheeks, knows too well that the blush will be visible even in the dim lighting of the party. 

“I mean it,” Harry says, his fingers touching Shawn’s forearm lightly and then brushing the shell of his ear where he has his helix piercing, “Did it hurt when you got it done?”

“Oh,” Shawn can hardly string a thought together with Harry’s light but deliberate touch. “It wasn’t too bad. Hurts more now actually. It’s taking forever to heal.”

Harry frowns a bit, his fingers slide away from Shawn’s ear and drag down the tender skin behind his ear. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt it,” Harry says sheepishly.

“It’s alright… you can,” Shawn sucks in a breath. Harry can what? Touch him? _Hurt_ him? He’s losing the plot so quickly. He can feel himself already half hard just from Harry touching his fucking ear. This is a disaster.

Harry makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat, his lower lip caught between his teeth. His thumb presses just a touch firmer into the tendon at Shawn’s neck. Shawn needs to say something, do something, but he’s paralyzed with what ifs and what the fucks. He wants Harry so badly he aches with it. 

But then the song changes and Harry’s face lights up like the sun, hand dropping from Shawn’s neck. The moment passes. 

“Oh my god, I love this song!” He yells suddenly, too loud for how close they are standing together.

Shawn just grins at him. “Me too.” 

“Dance with me?” Harry asks.

Shawn looks down at Harry’s outstretched hand. And yeah, for a second he’s terrified of doing this, always so concerned about what other people will think of him. But the second passes and he realizes he’s more terrified of not taking a chance on the beautiful boy standing in front of him. Even if it’s only a dance, Shawn’s not willing to give up this opportunity.

“Yeah,” he says, taking Harry’s hand, “yes.”

Harry’s smile widens and Shawn’s not even sure how it’s possible. 

 

Out on the dance floor, Harry is a force to be reckoned with. He’s wild and carefree, limbs flying in ways that on anyone else would seem awkward or plain bad, but it works for him. Shawn can’t stop laughing and bounces along with him. Their bodies crash into each other to the beat of the music, other celebrities’ bodies pressing in on the small dance floor. 

Shawn doesn’t know if it’s minutes or days that he spends out there, watching the lights paint Harry’s skin in a rainbow of colors. Harry giggles gleefully when Shawn twirls him, their fingers getting tangled in the spin. The sing along to the songs at the top of their lungs. Shawn hasn’t felt so free in years.

The music transitions into something a little darker, a little sexier. A steady, pulsing bassline thrums through Shawn’s body in time with his heartbeat as Harry moves in closer, invading his space. 

Shawn’s breath catches in the back of his throat when he feels the touch of Harry’s hand at his waist. His green eyes are electric and hold an unspoken question that Shawn is still trying to decode. 

He feels Harry’s thumb rubbing a small circle into his hip bone through the silken material of his shirt right above the waist of his dress pants. Shawn steps closer, the toes of their boots touching. 

“Is this okay?” Harry says over the music. Shawn can hear him because they’re so close. 

He can only nod. Harry takes Shawn’s hands and moves them so they’re on his waist. With permission to touch, Shawn can’t help but lightly dig his fingers into the meat of Harry’s hips. 

Harry smiles at him and slides his arms around the back of Shawn’s neck. They’re properly dancing now and it’s so hot that Shawn can barely handle it. He can’t believe this is real, wants to pinch himself to be sure this isn’t another one of his dreams. But it’s not a dream. It’s real. Real as the wet heat of Harry’s breath on his face. Real as the warmth of Harry’s body up against him, their hips moving in tandem. Real as the hard line of Harry’s cock pressed against his own. 

“Harry,” Shawn says, hopes it doesn’t sound as needy as he feels. 

Harry looks at him like he’s the only important thing in the world. Harry glances down at his mouth and back. They’ve been flirting with fire all night, but it’s then that Shawn gets it. That maybe Harry wants this just as much as he does. 

Harry leans in and Shawn sucks in a breath. Their noses brush and he lets his eyes slip closed, ready to let Harry take the lead. 

But the kiss doesn’t come. Instead, he feels Harry’s hot breath right against his ear. He shivers involuntarily; he feels wrecked already. 

“Meet me in the hallway,” Harry says, his lips catching on Shawn’s earring. 

If it were any other time, he’d give Harry shit for quoting his own song at him. But whatever remaining blood flow he has to his brain is gone, everything moving decidedly south at the flick of Harry’s tongue against his earlobe. 

Harry doesn’t wait for a response, just steps back and gives Shawn a look that shakes him to his core. And then he’s gone, lost to the crowd. 

Shawn closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He can do this. He wants this so much. And so does Harry. He’s overwhelmed. When he’s ready, he opens his eyes again. His gaze falls on the sofas by the dance floor. Kendall Jenner catches his eyes and lifts a perfectly drawn eyebrow at him. Her smirk says it all. Usually, Shawn would be mortified to be caught out like this, but instead he just smiles back at her and shrugs. 

“What are you waiting for? Go!” She yells over the music. 

Shawn doesn’t need to be told twice. He goes. 

+

 

Shawn gets lost, because of course he does. Harry hadn’t specified which hallway and he’s quickly waylaid by some industry friends who demand to have a quick life update. Shawn fumbles his way through small talk as quickly and politely as he can before he begs off in search of a bathroom. 

He’s about to give up and ask anyone if they’ve seen a gorgeous boy in puff sleeved Gucci when he sees the hallway marked for Staff Only. He shoulders the door open and sees him. 

Harry stands on the other end of the hallway. Shawn sees him in profile, the milky light of the dawning New York sun making him glow a little bit. He’s biting at his thumbnail and his brows are furrowed. He looks a bit sad. Shawn wants to touch and soothe and make sure Harry never feels that way again.

“Hey,” he calls gently.

Harry looks at him then, his expression softening a little but doesn’t smile. “I thought you’d changed your mind. Or maybe, like, I’d misread--”

Shawn cannot stand for that, not for one second. “Harry, no,” he says, and he’s crossing the hallway in four long strides. He takes Harry’s face in both his hands, registers Harry’s breathless little gasp when their bodies collide with the force of his momentum. Harry’s hand comes up to touch the outside of one of his wrists.

“No. I do want this. I just got a bit lost on the way. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long.” The confession spills from Shawn’s mouth unbidden, but it’s true. 

The look of relief on Harry’s face is palpable. He squeezes at Shawn’s wrist and the touch grounds him in the moment. “Please, Shawn. Please, I--”

Shawn leans in and catches Harry’s plea with his lips, swallowing the last of his words in a searing kiss. Harry tugs him closer, arms sliding up Shawn’s back to cling. It’s like an electric shock when Harry opens up to him instantly, deepening the kiss in wet, languid heat. Shawn feels the kiss in every inch of his body; it consumes him. He tastes tequila and lime as his tongue traces the inside of Harry’s mouth and it intoxicates him more than any drink ever could. He’s drunk on Harry’s kiss and he never wants to sober up.

Their kiss breaks with a wet smack that Shawn would be mortified by if he wasn’t so incredibly turned on. He can feel Harry’s erection too, pressed snugly against his own hip bone. Harry drops open mouthed kisses along his jaw, the sensitive skin behind his ear, and down his neck. When Harry bites down on his neck and sucks, Shawn can’t stop the sound that escapes his lips. His hips cant forward at the sensation causing him to moan again, but louder. 

“Fuck,” he pants, tilting his head to give Harry more access to his skin.

Harry’s hands are everywhere, gripping his back, his hips, and sliding lower to paw at his ass. “Christ, you’re so fucking hot,” Harry breathes, his lips pressed against Shawn’s throat. 

“Harry. Please.” Shawn whimpers, following Harry’s lead and grips the other man’s ass. Harry grunts and rolls his hips at the touch which only spurs Shawn on. He wants more, more, more. Wants skin on skin. 

Harry claims his lips in another scorching kiss. Shawn allows Harry to move him until his back hits the wall. Their lips part with the impact and Shawn gasps against Harry’s lips. He feels a tug at his waist, Harry’s fingers fumbling with his belt. Everything is moving so quickly and Shawn’s losing grip on reality. The only thing that matters now is Harry. Only Harry. 

“Fuck, oh my … _Harry,_ fuck,” Shawn hisses when Harry slips his hand inside his boxer briefs to wrap around his aching cock. He clings to Harry’s back, hips thrusting without permission into Harry’s firm grip. He can feel the cold metal of Harry’s rings against himself and it’s maddeningly good. It’s sinful. 

“Yeah?” Harry says, dimples reflecting in the early morning light. Shawn wants to taste them, so he does, flicking his tongue against one dimple before catching Harry’s husky giggle with his mouth. 

He thinks he could do this forever, kissing Harry, being this close to him. 

“What do you want?” Harry asks between kisses, “Tell me what you like. I wanna make you feel good.” 

Shawn doesn’t tell him that he could definitely come from this alone, just Harry’s gravel voice in his ear and his hand on his cock. “I...I don’t know. Fuck. It’s all good. You’re so good.”

He kisses Harry hard, sucks his lush bottom lip into his mouth and bites down. The sound that Harry makes is the thing of Shawn’s dreams. He feels Harry’s free hand tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t get a moment to gloat about making those sounds fall from Harry’s mouth because Harry breaks their kiss. 

“I want to taste you. Please. Can I?” Harry pants against Shawn’s mouth. “ _Please._ ”

All concerns of being in a public area fly out the window. Harry’s begging him. Harry is begging _him_. 

Shawn barely pants out his ragged assent before Harry is dropping to his knees before him. 

Harry’s lips are a dark rose color when they wrap around the head of Shawn’s cock, taking him down easily. Shawn would be impressed if he wasn’t consumed completely with trying not to fuck into the slick heat of Harry’s mouth. He’s a gentleman, he really is. That is until Harry hollows his cheeks around Shawn and sucks. 

“Oh god, oh fuck, Harry,” Shawn curses, one hand gripping into the billowing material at Harry’s shoulder, the other sliding into Harry’s hair to see if it feels as soft as it looks. 

Harry makes a pleased little grunt, the vibration sends shockwaves down Shawn’s spine. He’s relentless, taking Shawn like he was born to do it. 

“I’m not gonna last. God. Harry, I’m gonna-” Shawn grinds out. 

Harry pops off with an obscene noise that’ll haunt Shawn’s wet dreams for the rest of his life. “Come, babe. I want you to,” he says, voice wrecked.

That’s all it takes, really. Harry barely gets his mouth on the head of Shawn’s cock before he’s coming, coming, coming. Shawn forces his eyes open quick enough to see Harry back off, the last pulse of come catching on his bottom lip.

Dazedly, Shawn reaches out to drag his thumb across Harry’s bottom lip, smearing his own release there. Harry sucks Shawn’s finger into his mouth easily, eyelashes fanned out at the top of his cheekbones. 

“Amazing. You’re amazing, Harry,” Shawn says as he catches his breath and strokes his fingers along the side of Harry’s face. If it’s too tender of a touch for a borderline public hookup, Shawn could care less. It’s only then that he notices Harry’s still hard cock tenting the front of his pants. “C’mere. Please Harry, I wanna touch you, too. Want to feel you.”

Harry doesn’t need much more convincing than that. Shawn guides him up to his feet, rubs a palm over the front of Harry’s pants, feels his steel warmth, can’t wait to touch and see Harry fall apart for him. He fumbles for the fastening on Harry’s high waisted pants, desperate to get his hands on him. 

“Um,” He huffs out a laugh, feeling young and ridiculous. 

Harry grips Shawn’s hand and moves it to his side, where he feels the catch of a zipper. “Here,” Harry says.

“Kiss me again,” Shawn begs as he slides the zip down, slips his hand inside. 

Harry wrinkles his nose. “You sure?”

As Shawn wraps his fingers around Harry’s cock, he thumbs at the slick already gathering at the slit. He grins. “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”

+

The sun is setting again when Shawn wakes in an unfamiliar hotel bed. He rubs a hand over his face, and exhales loudly. He’d stumbled out of the party after six a.m. still a little drunk, a sated exhaustion curling deep in his bones. He couldn’t stop the pleased little smile from forming, even when the white hot flashes of the pap’s cameras caught him out. He’d blame his ruddy cheeks on the alcohol if asked.

He rolls onto his side, retrieving his phone from the bedside table. He thumbs past his notifications, his heart quickening upon seeing a picture message from Harry. He opens the messaging app and has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning. It’s a picture of Harry’s palm, streaked with the gold glitter paint that Shawn’s stylist had so carefully gelled his hair with. It was sent ten minutes ago.

Shawn knows it’s too soon. But he’s never had any chill when it comes to liking someone. And god, does he like Harry Styles. 

He opens the camera app on his phone, taps the front facing camera and takes a picture of the side of his neck where Harry’s teeth left a beautiful looking bruise. He sends it and waits only a minute before caving and typing out a message as well.

**_When can i see u again._ **

The three little gray dots show up instantly and Shawn has to hold his breath in anticipation.

**_H: well, darling, if you open up any major media site, you can see me right now. It’s CAMP, you know?_ **

Shawn giggles, he fucking giggles. God, he’s gone for this boy. 

**_Harry._ **

**_H: … Shawn_ **

**_You know what I mean._ **

**_H: I do._ **

 

And then, a second later:

**_H: I’m free tonight. You wanna do something to change that?_ **

Shawn blushes in the dusk of his empty hotel room, runs a hand through his messy hair. Yeah, he definitely wants to do something about it. Maybe for the foreseeable future even. He thumbs out his response, lets out an excited exhale, and hits send.

**_It’s a date._ **

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fictional nonsense, please validate me with love in the form of kudos and comments.
> 
> Tumblr fic moodboard is [here](https://choface.tumblr.com/post/184864257789/cant-drink-without-thinking-about-you-by-choface).


End file.
